My name is Mike, and at thirty-six I’ve lived through more loss than I ever expected to face this early in life. A year ago, I became a widower after a drunk driver blew through a stop sign on an icy Tuesday night and slammed into my wife’s car. Lara never made it home. One moment we were texting about whether our son, Caleb, needed new pajamas, and the next I was standing in a hospital hallway clutching a diaper bag like an anchor in a storm. Since then, I’ve rebuilt my life piece by piece, mostly for Caleb, who’s now a wild, giggling one-and-a-half-year-old who climbs everything in sight and reminds me daily that joy can still exist alongside grief….CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
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